Brian laughed. "I told myself! His manner--so sure of his power to
please--belongs to good looks. Besides, I've never known a tenor with
any such quality of voice who hadn't magnificent eyes. Why they should
go together is a mystery--but they do. Am I right about this chap?"
"Yes, you're right," I admitted. "But go on. I'm more interested in him
than in his sister."
"Are you? I've imagined her the more interesting--the more repaying--of
the two. I see O'Farrell, not a bad fellow, but--not _sure_. I don't
believe he's even sure of himself, whether he wants to be straight or
crooked. How he turns out will depend--on circumstances, or perhaps on
some woman. If he travels with us, he'll be a pleasant companion,
there's no doubt. But----"
"But--what?"
"Well, we must always keep in mind that he's an actor. We mustn't take
too seriously anything he says or does. And you, Molly--you must be more
careful than the rest."
"I! But I told you I'd never met him at St. Raphael. I never set eyes on
him till last night."
"I know. Yet I felt, when he 'set eyes' on you--oh, I don't know how to
express what I felt! Only--if it had happened on the stage, there'd have
been music for it in the orchestra."
"Brian, how strange you are!" I almost gasped. "Ought we to let the man
and his sister go on with us, if that's their aim? Their Red Cross flag
may be camouflage, you know! Very likely they're adventurers, after the
Beckett's money.
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